A Tale of Three Brothers
by JPalmerGirl
Summary: When House gets tackled by a fifteen year old boy in the Clinic, it seems like business as usual. Until he looks at the boy's face, those eyes were the property of only one other person that House had ever met and it wasn't that boy. But the homeless teen was gone just seconds later, dragging two little boys along with him. Yet House can only think of those eyes...they're Wilson's.


**"Cause when you're fifteen and somebody tells you they love you...You're gonna believe them...And when you're fifteen...Feeling like there's nothing to figure out...Well count to ten, take it in...This is life before you know who you're gonna be...Fifteen..." -(Fifteen) Taylor Swift **

Misha Wilson hated his job. But to say those simple five words by themselves would be a terrible understatement. There were reasons why he hated his job. Maybe because he was a prodigy and had graduated High-school at fifteen, only to have the door-slammed in his face whenever he wanted to apply for a minimum-wage job? Maybe because he got paid three days late every week, when he had to time his rent-payments exactly? Maybe because they, the workers, were forced to put a smile on their faces, rain or shine...no matter how much they hated their job? Maybe because they were always short-staffed and he was forced to stand at his post for FOUR EXTRA HOURS, when he really just needed to use the bathroom? But no, it wasn't any one of those things...it was a combination of all the things that come in the job-description when you decide to work at a place like Wal-Mart. Yes, Wal-Mart. Land of the poor, depressed and lost. Misha wasn't sure where he fit in those three categories, but they applied all the same.

"Do you sell rakes?"

"Yes of course, Sir. Right over there."

Misha grinned and waved politely at the middle-aged man as he hurried off to find his rake, before sighing heavily and coughing lightly into his closed fist as a result of it. He was coming down with something, not unheard of in a cesspool of germs like Wal-Mart. But irritating all the same. He just couldn't afford to get sick. Not while balancing his job and trying to take care of his little brothers. Charles was eight and already in the sixth grade when he should've been in the third. While little Ace was just three years old and spent all day in a half-priced Daycare Center that had cut Misha some slack out of sheer pity. It wasn't Misha's fault that their Mom had left them and that their Dad was an institutionalized schizophrenic. He was just trying to raise his baby brothers and keep their family together. He couldn't do that while he was sick. So he simply refused to be sick.

"M? Are you okay?"

Misha blinked owlishly at Charles who had Ace in his lap, both boy's were sitting behind Misha's counter and were waiting until the oldest brother got off work. Ace was yawning, curled up against Charles' chest, tiny fingers burrowed deep into the navy blue fabric. Misha nodded at the eight year old as he bent down and pressed a kiss to the Junior High student's forehead. Charles returned the sentiment with a kiss to Misha's freckled left cheek. All the Wilson boys were covered head-to-toe in freckles, it was a distinctive trait. Along with wavy dark hair, thick bushy eyebrows and oddly small ears. They were things that all the brothers shared and allowed Misha to pick his little brothers out of a crowd. That was why he was thankful for them. He loved his baby brothers more than life itself and it would kill him if he were to ever lose them. They were everything to him.

"Wilson!" Misha looked up when he heard someone call his last name and suddenly there was a fat, meaty paw stuck in his face, a white envelope clutched in the thick, sausage-like fingers. The oldest Wilson brother pulled the thick envelope out of his boss's grasp. And mumbled a quick 'thanks', before scooping Ace into his arms and grabbing Charles' thin hand. He was beginning to feel a sick churning feeling in the pit of his stomach and he forced down the urge to puke. Tugging Charles along with him as he hurried out of the store, he was so close...just a few feet from the door when a customer stopped him. He realized later on that he was still in his store uniform and that was why he'd been stopped, but at the time he had a killer headache and the need to puke was overwhelming. The woman had on tall heels and a skirt that was so short that most of her ass was showing, Misha had to resist the urge to cover his little brothers' eyes it was so indecent.

"Do you sell condoms?"

Next to his ear, little Ace tugged on the fabric of his Wal-Mart vest and whispered in his big brother's ear. "Mishie? Wha's a condo?" Misha didn't even bother to force a smile to his face as he snarled at the woman. He was sick, he was tired and now he'd have to explain yet another thing to his baby brother?! No fucking way!

"Just leave me the fuck alone!"

Misha practically exploded on the unsuspecting woman. But it was a terrible idea for him to open his mouth. He found that out moments later as a few bits of half-digested food and at least a gallon of bile spewed from his mouth and all over the poor woman. She gave a horrified screech as she nearly slipped in the growing puddle of vomit on the floor. Misha's noodle-like legs buckled under him and the poor boy was left on his hands and knees, spewing vomit like a fountain. The acid burned hot and heavy over his raw tongue and gushed from his mouth, totally outside of his control. Charles was rubbing his back in little circles, while holding little Ace back with a single thin arm. The toddler was desperately trying to look at his big brother, make sure that he was alright, but Charles gently stilled the hyperactive little boy. While Misha was puking, the manager hurried over to console the horrified woman. Before looking back at Misha with unveiled hatred as he snarled.

"That's it! Wilson, you're fired! Get out of here!"

Suddenly the fifteen year old felt very sick and very old. He staggered clumsy to his feet and took Charles' and Ace's hands again, quickly leading them around the pile of vomit and towards the store's exit. He could feel the sympathetic gazes of his coworkers on his back but they did nothing to help him quell the tears that bubbled in his dark eyes. He couldn't cry, not while Ace and Charles were watching. So he steeled himself against the hopelessness that was pounding in his heart as they walked into the frigid air outside. Their shitty, rundown, one-room apartment was only a short walk away but it seemed to take miles in the chilly weather. Both of his little brother's were pressed tightly against him. His feverish body was giving off an uncharacteristic amount of heat that seemed to do his cold little brothers, some measure of use. At least more than it did him. He had to stop a few times on the way, but his brothers didn't question him, they just stopped when he stopped and started again when he did. They could see how much the cold burned his eyes and sent daggers down his raw throat. He was ill all over and he hated how they could see. When the three brothers finally reached the apartment building, the owner was waiting for them. Misha knew that it was just for them the very moment that the old man turned his sickly-sweet smile on the three boys.

"Ah, Mr. Wilson. I've been waiting for you." The old, balding and fat man bumbled towards them, prompting Misha to pull both his baby brothers closer to his skinny frame. "Come with me, we have some things to discuss." The man completely ignored the two younger Wilson brothers as he began to speak to the eldest. Ace was completely zoned out but Charles was hanging on every single word and they made his stomach sink in dread.

"You seem to be late on your payments, Mr. Wilson." The man crooned with a horrid smile on his fat face.

"I just got paid today! I can pay! I swear!" Misha wailed, he couldn't afford to lose his apartment and his job in the same fucking day! But the owner's eyes showed no mercy as he scrutinized Misha and both younger Wilson brothers, before sneering and crossing his thick arms in front of his chest. "I'm trying to run a business here, boy! I shouldn't even be renting out apartments to minor-runaways! Pack up your shit and go." Misha winced when he heard the man's words and he practically got on his knees as he pleaded. Getting kicked out of their home was the very last thing that the three brothers needed. It just wasn't fair!

"Please don't do this! I have money to pay!" Misha stammered in a voice that tried desperately to be strong and firm but failed miserably. The owner merely raised an eyebrow at the desperate boy before shaking his head sharply and giving the boy a heavy shove on the shoulder. He then reached over and snatched the white envelope full of his payment out of Misha's clenched hand.

"Hey, that's mine!"

"Not anymore! Go grab your shit and get the hell out of here! You're lucky I'm not calling CPS on your ass! Where would your precious little brothers be if I did that?!" Misha gaped openly at the threat before sighing and dragging his baby brothers towards the elevators and up to their crappy apartment. They each had a small backpack that Misha meticulously packed with two pairs of pajamas for each, several thick and rolled-up blankets, a toothbrush, toothpaste, Ace's stuffed octopus, Charles' baby blue blanket, his own Grey's Anatomy book...he wanted to be a doctor one day, some spare money that he had saved up, some socks, underwear, a change of clothes, their birth certificates, passports and Misha's driving permit. The rest of their supplies, he left in the shitty apartment as the small family set out for the streets.

They ended up settling down to sleep under a local bridge, well out of the way of passing cars. Misha managed to make all three brothers a make-shift nest on the concrete. It was a frigid night but due to Misha's feverish body...his little brothers stayed warm. If only the same could've been said for Misha. The entire night was torture, he was ill and freezing. Nothing would get him warm and the ground was horribly uncomfortable. But he managed to slip into a fitful sleep dreaming of times long past.

_-Less_ _than 3 years prior- _

_A twelve year old Misha Wilson watched from a misted-over window as his mother's car disappeared down the driveway. She'd run from their house after another shouting match with their father, Danny Wilson. But there was something different about the way she was driving. A five year old Charles was trying to rock a newborn baby Ace to sleep, so Misha knew that he didn't see anything different. But the eldest boy did. She was driving slowly down the gravel road and the radio wasn't playing. Their Mom loved playing the radio, 'loud and proud' as she always called it. Some of Misha's earliest memories were of her driving him around in her pickup truck, country music blaring in their ears with all the windows down. The eldest boy would scream and cheer as his Mom was race down the gravel road towards their house. But she wasn't doing that now, her driving was slow and deliberate as she drove away. _

_Misha felt the sudden urge to wave goodbye as she disappeared from sight. Then, once he couldn't see her anymore, he darted out their front door. His bare feet slapping on the surface of their driveway as he raced to the end of it. The teachers at the high-school said that he was a champion runner, he could be on the track team one day. But he didn't care about that as he pelted down the driveway. He knew that she was already gone, that she couldn't see or hear him anymore as he skidded to a stop at the end of their driveway. He'd fallen and skinned his knees and the palms of his hands. But that wasn't why there were tears pelting down his cheeks. _

_He knew that she wasn't coming back. _

_"Mommy! Mommy! Don't leave me! Mommy! I'm sorry Daddy yells! I'm sorry I'm not tall or strong! I'm sorry Ace cries a lot! I'm sorry Charles can't run very well! I'm sorry for everything Mommy! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME!" _

_Misha screeched at the top of his powerful lungs. His cheeks were sopping wet with salty tears as he sobbed freely. Blood dripping from his skinned hands and knees and he scrunched up his eyes and just cried. He let everything loose that day. Calling his parents Mommy and Daddy, something he hadn't done for a very long time. He was supposed to be a self sufficient preteen but for that one moment, he was nothing more than a child who was never see his mother again. _

_That was their last goodbye._


End file.
